Dirty Halos
by All-things
Summary: "House still doesn't believe him when he says that he wasn't having an affair and honestly, that's fine with James.  It's better than his insufferable friend knowing the truth."


A/N: I don't own House MD. This is unbeta'd, just so you know. Please forgive any mistakes. Enjoy.

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Dirty Halos

There are some things James Wilson has never told his best friend…okay, a lot of things he's never told his best friend. But when he'd told the ever nosy Gregory House that he hadn't been cheating on his wife, it was true. Julie had told him that she'd been cheating on _him_ and then kicked him out. With nowhere to go, he showed up at his friend's apartment door. House still doesn't believe him when he says that he wasn't having an affair and honestly, that's fine with James. It's better than his insufferable friend knowing the truth.

It was the third night at Greg's home and James was still waiting for Julie to call and tell him to come home, which he knew she would…eventually. She couldn't unhook her claws from him, it just wasn't her way. Three months after their wedding, she'd told him that he was hers. She would call him and tell him to come home and he would. Because despite the hell she'd put him through, he still loved her.

House was sitting on the couch watching some animal kingdom show and Wilson was in the bathroom. He closed the door to make sure Greg didn't see what he was doing. Wilson unbuttoned and discarded his blue dress shirt then gently pulled off his white under shirt to reveal deep bruises and cuts. He looked at himself for a moment. His entire torso was littered with signs of violence and abuse. Most of the wounds were old but some still stung from the latest beating. Those were the ones Julie had given him before she slammed their front door in his face. She was smart, making sure that any and all marks of her darker side were easily hidden under a shirt. She never touched the face or arms. James sometimes wondered why he still loved her. It was probably because he was afraid of failing again in the realm of marriage. Maybe he didn't love her, then. Maybe he was just scared of disappointing his father again since he _was_ afraid of his father. Wilson's whole life has been dominated by trying to earn his father's approval, because when he didn't he would have to suffer "severe punishment". Even now, as an adult, his father could and would beat him to a pulp if he made the older man angry and nothing made Jacob Wilson angrier than failure from his sons. Julie had different reasons, but even then it was nothing new. He'd had a lot of practice in dealing with abuse.

With a sad sigh, he went to work cleaning some of the fresher wounds. He was in the middle of trying to reach one that was on his back when House barged in.

"Wilson what-" the diagnostician stopped dead in his tracks. A look of utter shock crossed his face as he stared at Wilson's bare chest in all its bruised and battered glory, if you could call it glory, more like horror. "Wilson?"

~H~

House's mind went on over load identifying and cataloging every bruise, cut, and tear on his best friend's body. "Wilson?" he uttered in shock.

Wilson quickly grabbed his button up shirt off the floor and hastily put it on. "Have you ever heard of knocking?" he asked in irritation, but there was something else in his tone…shame?

"What happened?" Greg demanded stepping closer to the oncologist and trying to force the blue shirt open so he could get a better look. "Let me see," he said sternly when James tried to bat his hands away.

"It's nothing. Just forget about it."

"Nothing? You call that nothing? You look like you've been hit by a bus." House pushed defensive hands away and pulled open the shirt to expose the picture of black and blue splotches.

"Just forget about it, okay?" Wilson sighed, but he didn't make any move to shove House away as he gently pulled the shirt off his friend's shoulders.

"What happened," Greg repeated. He ran his fingers lightly over the abused skin, careful not to cause more pain to the oncologist. Some of the bruises were in the shape of fists.

"Please, House, just-just forget about it. I'm fine. I took something for the pain, so it doesn't hurt."

Greg looked up at the despair and desperation in James' voice. He straightened to look the other man in the eyes, "I'm not going to forget about this. Now, tell me who did this to you."

Wilson was looking down at the floor. House had never seen his friend look so vulnerable. "It was Julie," came the almost inaudible reply.

"Julie did this to you?" House asked in disbelief.

The broken man nodded. Rage so pure it practically blinded House exploded in him. "And you didn't tell me?" he shouted at Wilson. The other man flinched and looked up at him. When Greg saw the unrestrained fear in those soft brown eyes directed towards him, the anger diminished and was replaced with guilt. His best friend was being abused and he didn't even notice. Then a moment not too long ago flashed before his eyes. _"Does it accrue to you that maybe there's some deeper guidance than 'keep your mouth shut'? That maybe a friend might value concern over glibness? That maybe…maybe I'm going through something that I need to have an actual conversation about?"_ Wilson's words rang clearly in his ear. His friend had reached out to him and House had practically told him that he was an idiot. Guilt was something Gregory House was not use to. In a softer tone he said, "Wilson, just let me look at you, okay?"

"You mean you're going to forget this whole thing?" James asked in surprise. The hope in his eye made Greg feel sick. _What has she done to you?_ He thought bitterly.

"No, I'm never going to forget this, but we're not going to do anything tonight. Come over here and sit down," Greg ordered gesturing to the toilet. Wilson complied and House knelt awkwardly in front of him, careful of his bad leg.

Upon farther inspection, House soon found that this abuse had been going on far longer than he would have guessed. It amazed him that Wilson had _seemed_ happy and his normal self at work. Nobody even had the vaguest notion that the younger man had been living in his own personal hell. _House_ hadn't even come _close_ to guessing that and he always prided himself at being able to catch the smallest, seemingly insignificant things. He looked up at the bowed head of his best friend. "Wilson, how long has this been happening?" It was better to get an exact time.

"Three months after the wedding," the oncologist whispered, the earlier tone of despair coloring his voice.

House swallowed. For almost three years Wilson has been abused by his wife. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to three days ago. But you said that you didn't care, so I didn't push it."

That reinforced the guilt but Greg tried to ignore it as he continued his questioning. "You've been married to her for three years, why didn't you tell me when this started?"

"I didn't want to disappoint my father with another failed marriage."

"Wilson, I think your dad would understand." House had met Wilson senior and he seemed like a reasonable man.

"You've never seen father angry," James whispered softly. Greg's blood turned cold at the utter fear he heard in that one sentence. He leaned forward forcing his friend to look him in the eye. Fear, despair, and shame were etched into those usually sparkling brown irises. House realized with a twist in his gut that they'd been there the whole time, he just never noticed.

"This isn't the first time someone's abused you, isn't?"

The oncologist shook his head in confirmation. "I learned how to hide things really well."

House could understand living with an abusive father, but his had never raised a finger to hit him. Oh, he'd gotten the belt a lot but never had he been beaten, not by his father.

House finished the inspection of his friend's torso, satisfied that there was no permanent damage of any sort. He stood and left the bathroom to give Wilson privacy as the oncologist changed into his pajamas.

A few minutes later, both men were sitting on the couch. "…_maybe I'm going through something that I need to have an actual conversation about…"_ House looked over at the broken man next to him. He was going to give Jimmy that conversation even if it did turn emotional which, given the circumstance, it probably would.

"I wasn't having an affair," James said softly.

Greg nodded. "Okay."

"She'd been getting worse lately; started using bigger and harder objects. I think…I think she enjoyed it. Hurting me made her feel superior."

"Why did you let her do it?"

Wilson shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I never really thought of fighting back as an option. I'd gotten used to being punished a lot when I was growing up. Guess I never realized that I'm not a little kid anymore."

House inwardly flinched at the word 'punished'. _Is that the word Mr. Wilson had used?_ "I'm not letting you go back to that house," Greg said with determination. He'd be a fool if he was going to let that witch get her hands on his friend again.

"She'll call. She'll tell me to come home." Hopelessness seemed to be the theme of this conversation. House decided to change the tone.

"I won't let her get you. Tomorrow we'll go to the police. Then we'll go and file for that divorce you've needed long ago."

"No, House. I'm not getting a divorce," Wilson said firmly.

"Why?" Greg asked in surprise. Why wouldn't you want to divorce your abusive wife?

"Father won't approve." There was that fear again. Had it been there all this time and House had never noticed?

"Wilson," he sighed, "You can't let your dad stop you from doing what's best for you." When the younger man looked at him, he continued, "I'll make sure he won't hurt you."

Relief flooded the oncologist's boyish face. Suddenly, Wilson's people pleasing persona gained a much deeper meaning. He'd grown up with a dictator for a father who frowned upon failure. Thus, James had been ingrained with the need to receive approval from everyone. He feared failure and did everything to keep from disappointing others. House wondered how many of his girlfriends and wives he actually loved and wasn't just trying to please them.

They talked for a little longer. Wilson described the things he'd gone through the last three years and answered House's questions. At about midnight, the younger doctor started to nod off. Greg heaved himself from the couch and told James to go to sleep. It didn't take long for that to happen.

House watched his friend sleep wondering how on earth he'd missed this zebra when the phone rang. He quickly answered, not wanting to wake the sleeping man.

"House."

"_It's Julie. I want to talk to James. I-I want to apologize."_ She sounded sincere, but he knew better.

"He's sleeping and I'm not going to wake him just to talk to you," he spat. The image of Wilson's damaged torso and pain filled eyes flashed before him.

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. _"Please, I want him to come home. Will you at least tell him that?"_

He almost told her to drop dead when he decided that it would be so much more fulfilling to do it in person. "Fine, I'll tell him. He'll be there in ten minutes." Of course he had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but he didn't say so as he hung up before she could say anything else.

He gave one last glance at Wilson before he threw on his leather jacket, slipped on some sneakers and walked out the door.

The ride over to the Wilson residents was fast and soon he found himself standing at the front door of the small house knocking. Julie opened it almost immediately, the smug expression dropping off her face as soon as she saw him.

"Where's James?" And she had the gall to look innocent about it.

"Did you really think that I'd let him come back here? I saw what you did to him," he growled.

The innocent acted flew out the window as she glared at him. "Okay," she sneered, "So? What are you going to do about it? James won't press charges, you know that."

"Think again. Tomorrow we're going to the police station. So I suggest you fine whoever you're doing and get him over here for one last round, because there's enough evidence on Wilson to get you at least twenty years."

She laughed and oh, how he hated her. "You came over here to scare me? Or are you marking your territory?" Her hazel eyes then darkened with jealousy. "Are you?" she insisted.

Now it was his turn to laugh. She was daft if she thought he was in love with Wilson. Yes, Jimmy was the most important person to him in this sorry world, but no, Greg House was _not_ in love with his best friend. But he wasn't going to tell her that since it seemed to upset her so. "What do you think?" he asked letting her assume what she wanted. She didn't disappoint.

With a cry of rage she lunged at him, which he easily dodged. "He's mine!" she shouted when she swung a right hook at his face. It was pathetically easy to defend himself from her wild punches. Wilson could have done it if he'd chosen to, which the moronic idiot hadn't. Julie's possessive screeches were starting to gain attention from the neighbors, which made this situation all the better.

"Julie, what's going on?" an overweight man asked. He came running up to the porch along with another man and a woman.

"He kidnapped James," Julie accused. House rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. You're the one who kicked him out just because _you_ told _him_ you've been having an affair."

The overweight man (who Greg remembers seeing before but couldn't remember his name) turned to him. "I've seen you before. You're Doc's friend aren't you?"

"You call Wilson 'Doc'?" House couldn't help but ask. Despite this whole messy event, he felt the corner of his lips quirk upwards. He didn't know why, but he found that amusing.

Julie suddenly vaulted herself on House, who wasn't expecting the attack, and they both fall on the hard wood. When they landed, she began hitting him in the face repeatedly.

"Mrs. Wilson!"

The two men pried her off Greg and the other woman went to check on him.

"You disgusting faggot! If you laid one hand on him I'll kill you!" Julie screamed at him.

With blood trickling from his nose, House stared at her in shock. Wilson's been living with her for three years. That thought sparked his own rage as he shrugged the neighbor woman off and stood up to his full height. He looked Julie in the eyes not bothering to hide his fiery. "I haven't hurt him and I'm not in love with him," his said in a cold tone, one that made the witch stop struggling, "You don't care about him. He's nothing but a toy to play with when you're bored. Hurting him makes you feel superior and you just _love_ to feel superior to everyone else. You've lived your whole life controlling others around you. That's why only your parents came to the wedding, because they were the only ones that you couldn't control growing up. Wilson was an easy target. All you had to do was make him fall in love with you and you had him. I'll bet you made those first three months seem like heaven before revealing want he really got himself into. Since then, you've beaten him and manipulated him into becoming your personal slave. And after the novelty of having someone come at your beck and call wore off, you started to tell him to stay nights at the hospital so you could stay home and prance around with Mr. What's-His-Face in the bedroom. Then one night he decides to come home when you hadn't planned and he catches you with What's-His-Face in _his_ bedroom then _you _throw _him_ out. Now you want him to come home so you can force some good sex out of him and beat him for scaring away the other guy. I don't think so. Tomorrow your life is going to change and I assure you it won't be for the better. And if I catch you _near_ him before you're hauled off to prison you _will_ regret it." House turned and limped heavily off the porch to his bike.

"How _dare_ you lie about me like that?" screeched the witch.

Greg paused only long enough to say, "Drop dead." He got on his bike and rode away.

When he got home, he locked the door and checked on Wilson. The oncologist was still sleeping soundly. House hesitated, then reached down and tucked the blanket over the sleeping man's shoulders. He would never do anything like that if Jimmy was awake, but Jimmy wasn't. In fact, he could do anything to the younger doctor right now. How on earth did Wilson sleep in his house with that psycho?

"House?" a sleepy voice broke his thoughts.

"Go back to sleep, Wilson," he ordered. Wilson complied with a stifled yawn.

House watched him a little longer. Tomorrow they were going to the police station and turn in that psychotic witch. Greg was going to make sure nothing like this _ever_ happened again.

~The End~


End file.
